part of the whole

People aren’t real, when they are sober…
your lack of wisdom
don’t need be explained because you aren’t older
it’s easy to find the reason
all your attention
you spend with the wrong motivation
likes and shares
do you have any idea of who really care?
Good for you
if you don’t give a damn about all this kind of weirdo
but if you do
don’t get mad or sad
you are just part of the whole

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Pleasure

A sense of total disillusion
neglected by the sweet taste
of passion, love and depression
a dark corner look like a mansion
any place looks so much better
without the sense of waste
taste, waste, haste
to find a space
without the pressure in the chest
only with pleasure
can you show me the path?

Typical

Atypical, like the lines below
my mind fly away from this place
pain still hard to swallow
wounds inside my mind screams so loud
that even that I have a key, I can’t open this cage
but my heart can help my mind, and above that heavy cloud
I can find a warm sun, a peace that I can’t describe
but, it’s sad to admit, it’s like hide-and-seek
sometimes, this place it’s so easy to find
sometimes, no matter how hard I try
it’s like a war of ideas, a fall of ideals
but, it’s just a normal minute of my typical day

Illusion of Relief

Why so much confusion
about the deepest fears
about the illusion of relief
under our fake smile, only depression
even the warm sun can’t make these black clouds disappear
sound so familiar this kind of confession
you can read this lines
in a thousand profiles
around the globe, around your neigbourhood
sad to see, even more to listen
“it’s just a phase, it’s just a bad moment”
cuts, tears, suicide letters,
a lot made just to ask for help
forgotten, because this kind of behavior
don’t look so well…

Guilty by

I’ll accuse myself
guilty by the pleasure
of being sad, mad, stand
in the same place that you can find
a paper, ink,
letters about dreams and nightmares
sketches about me and a perfect place
where pain doesn’t exist
God, the real one
don’t need to think about punishment
and us don’t need to pray and live in constant lament
about the maleficant
moment that God look down and choose one of us
to prove his existence
excuse, excuse
I’m realy sorry, but this place
have no meaning to exist
and even if could
you would not be invited, sinner like you are
this place would burn faster than a simple blink

Zombie Inc.

Like a worm hunting a warm place
to keep the unique thing that have sense
the will of living, the need of breathing
you just keep searching
the perfect match, the (sick word) “crush”
sad to say, or glad to not be part of this
I must say “keep going”
what could be more important
than find heat to warm your cold chest
a hug to protect you from the evil nest
that are this real deadly world
gone, sold, gold, poled
stuck in a river
made by your own tears
so let’s toast for this, cheers
like a worm that need live
you choose to be
just another pathetic zombie
without meaning, just hunting bodies in a touch screen